


siren tears

by dragongirlG



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, HYDRA Trash Party, Needles, Restraints, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongirlG/pseuds/dragongirlG
Summary: The Soldier endures one doctor's curiosity, suppressing its tears as ordered until it can no longer hold back.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36
Collections: Dacryphilia Dog Days -





	siren tears

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dacryphilia Dog Days 2020 event. Dedicated to all my HTP friends - you're the most supportive fandom community I've ever encountered, and I'm so grateful for all of you.

"Have you heard of sirens, Soldier?" the doctor muses, pressing a cold finger against the Soldier's bare stomach.

The Soldier does not respond. It cannot, for it's been gagged with the bit and the mask. Leather straps keep its head and body tightly bound against a metal table. It's upright in a standing position and, of course, naked, for this mission does not require body armor. The Soldier's mission is to stay still and be quiet, and above else, not to cry.

_If you cry even a single tear, then you have failed the mission. Do you understand, Soldier?_

This will be an easy mission. The Soldier's tears dried out long ago. Now all it expels is bile, and drool, and blood.

The doctor—not the one it can vaguely recall, with the bug-like eyes and the round spectacles—no, this is a different doctor, tall, skinny, with mean, beady eyes. The doctor is still talking.

"—they say that sirens' tears turn into pearls," the doctor says, holding up a sharp needle, so thin it's barely visible unless it catches the light, "because they are so rare."

The Soldier has a vague image of the ocean. A creature with rows of sharp teeth and a deadly muscular tail, and something about singing—

"Hm," the doctor says thoughtfully, and the Soldier snaps back to attention. "Where should I start?" The doctor prods the exposed skin of the Soldier's thighs, then trails his fingers up along the Soldier's belly, chest, nipples, throat. He rolls a nipple between his index finger and his thumb, and the Soldier frowns, jerking at the jolt of pleasure-pain.

"Perhaps there," the doctor muses, then bends down out of the Soldier's sight. He lifts the Soldier's foot, tickling along the bottom, and the Soldier spasms despite itself. "Or there?"

The doctor hums, frowning, his eyes skimming over the Soldier's metal arm. Maybe that's what the doctor will touch next. That's what the other doctor and the handlers are always doing. The Soldier braces itself for the unpleasant shock of the plates being opened.

"This will be easier if you relax," the doctor chides like the Soldier is a small child, and he _tsks_ when the Soldier tenses up even more. "Very well. Perhaps this will speed things up."

At first, the Soldier almost doesn't notice the sting against its balls. It thinks that perhaps its body is just responding to a phantom sensation of cold, trembling in response to an imagined chill. It does that a lot.

"I see one is not sufficient," says the doctor, and the sting transforms into a sudden, sharp flare of pain deep within the Soldier's sac. The Soldier whimpers despite itself.

A light appears in the doctor's eyes. "Ah. Progress." And without warning, he shoves another needle—for that's what it must be—into the Soldier's scrotum.

The Soldier bites down hard on its bit, shuddering, and forces itself to take in air. Pain is radiating outward from where the needles have penetrated its skin—all the way through to the board. Gorge rises in the Soldier's throat, threatening to suffocate it, and the Soldier forces itself to swallow.

The doctor smiles, and another needle goes in. This time it burns. A strangled noise escapes the Soldier's throat, its flesh and metal fingers scrabbling uselessly against the board, its hips and thighs twitching in a futile attempt at relief.

"Why are you holding back, Soldier?" the doctor asks, tilting his head. He grasps the Soldier's chin, his touch almost gentle.

The Soldier does not understand. It trembles under the doctor's sharp gaze, unable to look away. Its vision blurs, tears pooling in its eyes against its best efforts, and it blinks hard, willing them back with a wet, muffled sob.

The doctor pats the Soldier's cheek and turns away.

The Soldier waits.

And waits.

And waits.

The Soldier exhales. Perhaps it's over. Perhaps it will not fail its mission after all. Against its better judgment, the Soldier lets itself hope. Its heart rate slows, its breathing evens out, and it falls into a the meditative state required for field missions.

And then a searing pain shoots through the Soldier's cock.

A scream rises out of the Soldier's throat, ringing in the air as the Soldier thrashes against its restraints. It's like the Chair—no, it's worse than the Chair, because the Chair lets the Soldier forget—here, the Soldier can feel the hot blood dripping down its thighs, the way its skin tears as it struggles, it—

"Will you cry now, Soldier?"

It's an order, a directive disguised as a question and the Soldier can't fight it—

A tear slips free, trickling down the Soldier's cheek, dripping down into the mask. There's salt on the Soldier's tongue as the doctor claps his hands and holds two tubes up to its eyes. "Finally," the doctor breathes, and the Soldier—impaled, convulsing, and pinned like a butterfly against the board—cries, and cries, and cries.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please let me know. Comments make my day! 
> 
> Transformative works are welcome. Please see my profile for my policy. If you are inspired to create something, please message me or comment with the link so that I can see it and give it love. ❤️
> 
> Say hi at [tumblr](https://dragongirlg-fics.tumblr.com/).


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